Aetheric Chronicles: Reborn As An Extra

The arena was quiet for a moment longer, the crowd still grappling with the scene before them. Adrian stood amidst the debris of the arena floor, his figure bloodied and battered, his breathing labored yet steady. His opponent, the crown prince Aurelius, lay unconscious in his arms, the once-pristine robes now streaked with blood and dirt.

Then, as if a dam had broken, the silence erupted into an overwhelming roar.

"Adrian! Adrian!" the crowd chanted, voices rising in unison, echoing through the arena like thunder. Nobles leaped from their seats, clapping fervently, while others shouted and waved. Even those who had sneered at him moments ago now cheered as though they had supported him from the start.

The announcer's voice barely cut through the cacophony as he proclaimed, "Ladies and gentlemen, the victor of this legendary battle—Adrian Lighthaven!"

Adrian surveyed the crowd, his piercing gaze sweeping across the sea of faces. The cheers were deafening, but his expression remained impassive. With measured steps, he carried Aurelius's limp form toward the royal healers waiting at the arena's edge.

The lead healer stepped forward, her movements precise and efficient. Her striking eyes caught the light as she extended her arms to take Aurelius. Adrian transferred the prince with careful movements, despite exhaustion threatening to overwhelm him. The healer's gaze flickered over Adrian's injuries—the deep gashes across his arms, the bruises blooming on his chest, the cut above his eye still trickling blood.

Adrian caught her concerned look and managed a slight nod. He knew his own limits.

Two more healers approached him as the lead healer carried Aurelius away. Their hands glowed with a soft, pale light as they worked on his most severe injuries. The magic felt cool against his skin, knitting flesh and bone back together, though it couldn't completely eliminate the bone-deep ache of exhaustion.

The crowd's cheers grew even louder as Adrian's wounds began to close. Continue reading stories on empire

His solitary figure stood out against the ruined arena floor, illuminated by the flickering aether lamps above. His frame, normally concealed beneath his attire, was now bare save for the tattered remains of his shirt. Blood and sweat had carved paths through the dirt on his skin, highlighting the powerful lines of muscle beneath.

His face was a battlefield in itself—half dirt, half blood, and all composure. His dark hair clung to his forehead, and his eyes burned with an intensity that no amount of injury could dim.

The announcer finally stepped forward, raising his hands to quiet the crowd. After the customary proclamations and promises of rewards, he declared the commencement of the grand dinner and ball.

As the crowd began to disperse, a young woman in elegant court dress approached Adrian. Her bearing marked her as one of Princess Isabella's ladies-in-waiting.

"This way, Lord Lighthaven," she said with a curtsey. "Her Highness has arranged quarters for you to refresh yourself before the festivities."

Adrian followed her through the palace corridors, his steps measured despite his fatigue. The healing magic had closed his wounds, but his muscles still protested every movement. They arrived at an ornate door, and the lady-in-waiting opened it with a small key.

"Fresh clothes have been laid out for you, my lord. The bathroom is through the inner door. If you need anything else, please don't hesitate to call."

As soon as she left, Adrian made his way directly to the bathroom. The spacious chamber was lined with polished marble, a large copper tub dominating one corner. He stripped off what remained of his clothes and stepped into the shower, letting hot water cascade over his shoulders.

Blood and dirt swirled at his feet, washing away the visible evidence of the battle. Steam rose around him as he braced one hand against the wall, finally allowing himself a moment of vulnerability. His body ached fiercely—the healers had mended the wounds, but the memory of pain lingered in every muscle and joint.

Adrian closed his eyes, letting the water run over his face. The crowd's adulation meant nothing to him. Their cheers, their praise, their sudden reverence—all of it was as substantial as morning mist. He hadn't fought to prove himself the strongest or to win their acclaim.

No, his purpose had been far more specific.

He needed to test Aurelius, to gauge how far the crown prince had truly come. And more importantly, this victory had earned him something far more valuable than any title or reward—it had given him the perfect opportunity to speak with the king and queen.

A faint smile touched his lips as he reached for the soap. Soon, very soon, he would have the right time to complete the next part of his plans.

Now he just had to endure a few hours of celebration before he could pursue his real objective.

"But... he was really stronger..." Adrian muttered recalling his battle with Aurelius.

Had it not been for his trap, he would have certainly lost the battle.

But, strategy, experience, and intellect were important aspects of every battle. That's what life and his mistakes had taught him.

And if power was added, one would be certainly powerful. But he lacked at this aspect now.

"Well, it only means I have to start looking for a way to unlock my powers."

"Though, I need to take care of this first..."

After drying himself with one of the soft towels provided, Adrian's eyes fell on the clothes laid out for him.

He could have easily retrieved a fresh set from his storage ring—but he knew better. Years of experience had taught him the intricacies of courtesy, both high and low. To refuse clothes specifically prepared for him would be an insult to the hospitality being shown, regardless of his own preferences.

The outfit consisted of a crisp white shirt with subtle silver threading at the cuffs, a deep blue vest embroidered with patterns that seemed to shift in the light, and perfectly tailored black pants. A matching jacket completed the ensemble, its cut both elegant and practical. Someone had clearly put thought into the selection.

Adrian dressed carefully, appreciating the quality of the fabric against his skin. Each piece fit as if it had been made specifically for him, neither too loose nor too constricting. The boots provided were supple leather, polished to a soft sheen, comfortable yet refined.

Once fully dressed, he turned to the full-length mirror mounted on the wall. The reflection that greeted him was a far cry from the battle-worn warrior of an hour ago. The clothes struck a perfect balance—not quite noble attire, yet several steps above common dress. They gave him an air of distinction while maintaining an element of mystery.

His brown hair, now dried and neatly combed, fell in subtle waves that framed his face. The healing had left no traces of his injuries, though a certain intensity still burned in his eyes. The overall effect was exactly what the clothes' designer must have intended: he looked like a figure who could move comfortably between worlds, neither fully of the nobility nor entirely common.

A faint, appreciative smile crossed his face. Princess Isabella's hand was evident in this choice of attire.

She had always possessed a keen understanding of subtle messages conveyed through appearance. These clothes would allow him to attend the evening's festivities without drawing undue attention to his status—or lack thereof—while still marking him as someone worthy of notice.

He adjusted the vest slightly, his movements precise and controlled. The celebration ahead would be its own kind of battle, one fought with words and careful observations rather than fists and magic. But first, he had another small matter to attend to.

Reaching into his storage ring, he retrieved a small, ornate box. Inside lay a simple silver pendant—a gift he'd been carrying for quite some time. And tonight he would finally present it to the person.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. "Lord Lighthaven?" It was the lady-in-waiting from before. "The festivities will begin shortly. Shall I escort you to the grand hall?"

Adrian tucked the box back into his storage ring. "Yes," he called out, taking one final look in the mirror. "I'm ready."

It was time to relax a bit after all of this fights.